Harry Potter One Shot Series- Malfoy's Depressed
by Fenris's Slytherin Princess
Summary: When Harry finds out that Draco's depressed, that's all he can think about.


Breakfast time after the war was always a barrel of laughs. With the awkward sideways glances of half the year, anyone would think I killed someone. Well, I kind of did. I was bemused by the thought of our eighth year at Hogwarts until Hermione quickly stole away from her boyfriend, Ron. "Harry!" She elbowed me sharply in the side.  
"Ouch!" I dropped my slice of toast. "What?" I tilted my head towards her, scanning the Slytherin table. I felt a sharp pang as my eyes fell onto Draco and Blaise. My guilt was soon washed away as I heard Hermione's troubled tone.  
"Did you hear the rumour?" she sounded worried.  
"No." I shook my head, buttering another slice of toast.  
"Malfoy…" She lowered her voice to a quiet whisperer, and leaned in so her head was almost on my shoulder; I noticed her hand was still locked into Ron's. "He…" It was like she was biting back tears. Her voice, like my stomach, was riddled with guilt. "He is depressed." My eyes wandered back over to where the Slytherin sat; he had his head in his hands, and his face, though partially hidden, seemed paler than ever. Hermione's face twisted uncomfortably as she turned around. I observed for a few minutes, and noted Draco's discomfort as he squirmed under social pressures. I went back to my toast, and when I'd finished, I made a beeline for the library.

Madame Pince was dusting a newer bookshelf when I walked in. "Ma'am?" I asked, as politely as I could.  
"Yes, Mister Potter?" At least she hadn't changed.  
"Do you have any books on depression?" she shook her head slowly.  
"Sorry." I smiled sympathetically. It had been a long summer.  
"It's okay, I'm sure I can do without!" With that, I walked out, slightly annoyed, but nonetheless happy.

As I wandered down to the Forbidden Forest, the thought of Malfoy being depressed played on my mind. I knew his parent's had died but—I heard a loud, furious yell. "_I'M OKAY!_" the sound echoed as I entered a thicket of trees. The voice was distinctive and recognisable, if slightly worrying. "…_Nothing wrong with me!"_ The voice was a little closer as I wandered to find a spot where I could think in peace. After searching for a moment, I found a little burrow made of a fallen tree root. The burrow was by a lake, and the temptation to dip my hand in it was too much. The water was icy and cool, refreshing, almost. Even though the midday sun would have burnt my neck over at the Quidditch pitch, the shelter of the trees in the forest let little, if any, sunlight penetrate to the ground below. I waited for another yell, and when it came, I scurried back into the burrow, holding my breath carefully. "This _bloody _war!" the voice was close to my hiding spot now, as the man threw a pebble, metres from where I was sat. I jolted as I saw a flash of stone in front of me. The voice was raw from shouting. "Who… Who's there?" Draco Malfoy came into view, but my face was hidden by a shadow.  
"Potter." I whispered, my throat closing up. I didn't want him to find me, I wanted to think.  
"_You._" His voice was accusing, serious and sharp, and his breath had the thorny scent of firewhiskey. Malfoy put his hands on my shoulders, and dragged me up to a small pool of radiating sunlight. Pushing me up against the body of the root, he spat to my face. "If only you were dead!" His voice was as harsh and unexpected as his punch. I lunged forwards, grabbing my stomach.  
"Mal—" I tried to speak, but my rasping tone and his interrupting manner cut me off.  
"My parents would be alive!" He screeched into my ears, his voice warbling slightly. He kneed me dead in the crotch, making me yell out in pain.  
"_Shit Malfoy!_" A rouge tear escaped my eyes, "I _need_ those!"  
"No you don't! You stupid little _virgin._ I hate you!" His words cut through me better than any blade. He was still hitting my arms and stomach, but I was fixated on that word.  
"I…" I tried to apologise, but I was still gasping through pain.  
"I wouldn't have this!" he tore away his right sleeve away from his arm. It was dangerously pale, and it bore the dark mark. But what worried me more, was the battlefield it seemed to sport. Before I could even think about what I'd seen, Draco had punched me square in the nose.  
"Shit!" I screamed, quickly putting my hand over my nose to make sure it wasn't bleeding. It wasn't.  
"I hate you!" His voice finally broke as he punched me one last time. Large, opalescent sobs fell down his milk-like skin.  
"Malfoy…" His grip finally relaxed as he tugged his sleeve from his shoulder to his elbow. He finally let go of my shoulders, and slumped to my feet, crying loudly. I joined him on the floor, and placed a hand over his shoulder. I pulled his sleeve over his shoulder, and examined the war wounds. There were a few deeper ones that ran down the three veins in his arm, two slashes across his wrist, and lots of tiny little ones, more like scratches than cuts. "Did you do this?" He nodded glumly through his fading tears. I nodded decisively and pulled out my wand.  
"No…" He mumbled feebly as I placed it on the smallest cut I could see.  
"Draco…" I forced him to look at me. His once proud, grey eyes were trembling and lifeless. "Please." He relented, and let me heal one. I sent a burst of healing magic through the small cut, and it immediately started to scar over. I started healing the little ones first, and noticed that they seemed to be healing themselves- he'd been doing this for a while. Then, when I got to the three big ones, I noticed went all up from his wrist to beyond his shoulder. I shook my head.  
"Blaise said that…" He sniffed loudly and wiped his nose with his spare hand, "if I cut, then it wouldn't hurt." His sobs were silent and frighteningly motionless. I heaved my proud chest in and out, almost in tears myself.  
"It _is _okay, Draco." I stroked his hair smoothly, "You're not alone."

And that was final.

Malfoy was depressed.


End file.
